


One Day

by Ling_Xiaojie



Category: LocoRoco (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gijinka, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, One-Shots, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-09-24 05:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ling_Xiaojie/pseuds/Ling_Xiaojie
Summary: A series of LocoRoco (and LocoRoco 2 technically) shipping one-shots. Gijinka. Gonna start off with pairings that I personally ship but I might branch off and do some that other people ship as well. Fluffy one-shots, nothing too dramatic, emotional, or steamy. Enjoy.





	1. Teatime (Budzi/Viole)

“So the king and the queen promised that there would be meatballs for the spaghetti tree every day, and from then on, the three-eyed organ grinder was never seen or heard from again. The end.” With these words, Viole finished her bedtime story for Kulche, who yawned and sleepily thanked her, his head still in her lap. His eyes had been drooping since the story’s climax, but he had forced himself to stay awake and not miss the ending. Now that it was over, he let his eyes close and his body go loose, but not before murmuring “goodnight” to his big sister. Viole stroked his hair and gently moved his head up from her lap and onto a cushion so as not to wake him.

  
“Nice story,” commented Budzi, who sat in a nearby chair, his head leaning back over one arm of the chair and his legs bent at the knee over the other arm.

Unable to sit down for any longer, Viole rose up off the sofa and stretched her legs. “Thanks for helping me babysit. You want a cup of tea or something before you go?”

Budzi suddenly felt self-conscious and felt the need to sit upright. “Uh, tea would be great, but, uh…”

“Something wrong?” Viole asked, standing beside his chair. He tried not to get too excited by her standing that close to him.

He looked away from her. “No, I’m fine. Really.” He thanked his lucky stars for both his dark skin and the low light of the house that hid the growing hotness in his cheeks.

Viole shrugged. “Okay,” she muttered, sounding rather unconvinced, and headed toward the kitchen. Just as she did, Budzi blurted out his question. “Say, uh, you mind if I stay here a little longer?”

The girl quickly spun around on her heel, eyes blazing, and hissed out an acrid “Shhh!” that made him cringe a bit. He began to sweat. Had he just ruined his chances? His eyes darted to Kulche, who was, thankfully, still asleep. He flashed a thumbs up at Viole, and she calmed down a bit.

“Do you mind if I stay here a little longer?” Budzi asked again, this time quieter.

“No, it’s cool,” Viole responded, bringing a kettle of water to a boil and grinding up the spiral leaves in a bowl. She knew Budzi would appreciate spiral-leaf tea. “I just thought you might be bored by now.”

Budzi fidgeted. Bored? She thought he would be bored after an evening with her? An evening of chasing her around the whole house and then wrestling her in a friendly competition for the first shot at the music? Bored after taking turns performing impromptu karaoke to each song, watching that fluffy tuft of dark purple hair above Viole’s forehead bounce adorably up and down as she headbanged? Bored after the raucous, hearty laughter from swapping jokes with Kulche and the subsequent tears and hiccups from eating too many roasted capla tapla seeds while doing so? Bored after listening to Viole weave a bedtime story out of thin air for her younger brother that Budzi had tried his hardest not to look as if he was enjoying it just as much as Kulche? True, the evening for him had started off as an excuse to get close to Viole, but after seeing the sheer joy in her eyes over the fact that the three of them could have an evening together, Budzi found himself having a lot more fun than he’d thought he would. He had to thank her, had to show her how much she meant to him. He took in a breath and steeled himself with as much confidence as he could before following her into the kitchen.

“I mean, this wasn’t exactly a wild night out,” Viole went on, taking the steaming kettle off the boil. Just then, she felt a pair of strong arms around her waist and a large warmth pressing against her back. Budzi’s stubbled chin rested gently on her shoulder.

“Viole, believe me when I say I had more fun with you and the kid than ten wild nights in Dolangomeri.”

Viole felt a blush rising to her cheeks. She quickly poured the boiling water that was nearly as hot as her reddening face on the spiral tea leaves and began to mix, the strong and exotic smell wafting up toward her in a hot cloud. “Umm, Budzi, would you, uh…find me the strainer?” She was looking for any excuse for him to let go of her before she either exploded with excitement or melted from passion.

“You got it,” he said, and lingered a split longer before ruffling his hand through her soft hair.

Finally able to think clearly, Viole began to sort out the rush of thoughts in her head. Budzi had just hugged her, she realized, and not only that, but had told her how much fun he’d had during their evening together. She had no reason to think he wasn’t being sincere when he said that, but did he enjoy it as a hangout between three friends, or did this count as a date to him? He’d been to her place before, but he’d never stayed this late. How long was he planning on being here? And why? Viole’s heart started pounding excitedly at the prospect of spending an entire night with Budzi, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. After all, she was still unsure of the strength of his feelings for her.  
  
She was interrupted by Budzi setting the strainer down next to her on the counter. “There you go.”

“Thanks. Hey, while it’s steeping, what do you like in your tea?”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” came the reply.

“You sure? Without honey, it’s pretty strong,” she pointed out.

Budzi chuckled. “I like it strong.”

Viole smiled and reached for the teapot. In half a second, the man was beside her again, and picked up the strainer. “Here, lemme hold this for you,” he said. Viole blushed again. He was definitely flirting with her. He didn’t even get this physically close to Pekeroné, even when giving out one of his notorious headlock-noogie combos. Hands shaking a little, she poured the tea mixture over the strainer and into the pot, with Budzi waiting patiently until the bowl was emptied. “Smells great,” he mumbled, laying an arm across her shoulders.

Her excitement was starting to cloud her judgement again. All of a sudden, she blurted out: “Budzi, what are you doing?”

Her question made him stumble back a bit, concerned that he’d overstepped some boundaries without realizing it. “Sorry, sorry, I just thought I’d kinda—uh, didn’t mean to make you feel like I—” he nervously scrambled to justify what was going on. Was this what Pekeroné felt like all the time?

Viole wasn’t doing much better. “No, that’s okay, what I meant was—well, I’ve just been, I mean do you think I—?”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again, I just wanted to help, didn’t mean to scare you,” he explained.

“No, it’s okay,” she tried to reassure him. “I’m just sort of…confused. I mean, I was just wondering…”

“Yeah?” he asked, waiting with baited breath.

At last the words came to her. “Are we on a _date?_”

Budzi didn’t know how to respond. If he said yes, he might creep her out and make her feel trapped. If he tried to hide his feelings and say no, she might feel rejected. After deliberating for a moment, he decided to take the risk. “Yeah,” he said, “I think we are.”

“Oh,” was all Viole said. It was hard to tell if she was disappointed or relieved.

“I mean, if you _want_ to be,” Budzi quickly added.

A tense, silent second passed before a shy smile crept over Viole’s lips. “Yeah,” she said, sounding surprised at her own response. “I’d actually like that a lot.”

“Me too,” he said, halfway through a sigh of relief. Even though it was finally out in the open, he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive to approach her again. “I…I like _you_ a lot,” he admitted. “Always have.”

There was no mistaking the smile on Viole’s face as she poured him a cup and pecked him on the cheek. Budzi responded by pulling her close by the hips. She was so beautiful, and that sweet smile of hers was so unrelentingly contagious. “Thanks for the tea, babe,” he said, planting a kiss on top of her head.

Viole giggled and embraced him in return. “No problem, big guy.” As they held each other, she lightly stroked his jaw with her fingertips. His strong body, his deep voice, his confident grin, the firm but gentle way he held her…yes, she was sure that she was in love with him. And this was their first date. It felt…right. Special, and yet familiar. She leaned in close and rested her head on his broad chest, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body envelop her senses.

. . .

Kulche began to stir as the morning sunlight shined in his face. As his eyes began to open, he realized that he was still lying on his side on the couch, and that there was snoring coming from somewhere in the room. He shifted to get his bearings and sat upright, rubbing his eyes and then stretching. He then looked around for the source of the snoring and saw Viole and Budzi lying in the chair, with Viole resting in Budzi’s lap, head underneath his chin, while his hand lay on her back. The side of her face was pressed against his chest, as if listening to his heartbeat had lulled her to sleep. Kulche was a little shocked, but more amused than anything else. Should he wake them up? No, that would probably embarrass them. He’d let them have their rest…at least until it was time for breakfast.


	2. Getting Your Sea Legs (Pekeroné/Chavez)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chavez spends his first weekend in Tropuca, and Pekeroné is more than happy for the company. Chronologically, this probably takes place between LocoRoco 1 and 2, considering the LocoRoco don’t swim in 1 but all of them can swim in 2. Enjoy.

It wasn’t that he outright hated going sledding—after all, he’d do anything to spend time with Chavez—but all the same Pekeroné couldn’t stop himself from dreading the trips to Shamplin to go whizzing around on the world’s iciest, slipperiest slopes whose loops, twists, and turns would put a flagship roller coaster to shame. Admittedly, it was never as bad as he feared it would be, but the anticipation of the event had a way of working its way inside him and getting a tight grip on his nerves, at least until he felt Chavez’s reassuring hand on his shoulder, easing him over the top of the hill. He never seemed to be annoyed by Pekeroné’s screams as they zoomed down the mountain, no matter how loud they got, nor did he seem to be fazed by the iron grip that the younger fellow had on his forearms as he clung for dear life, nor was he at all put off by the tight hugs of relief he always got once they slowed to a stop at the bottom of the hill. This was what he loved to do, after all, and though it scared Peké silly, he had to admit that he felt honoured that Chavez would share his favourite pastime with a scrawny, lazy-eyed geek like him. He could have easily chosen his best friend, Tupley, or the gorgeous Priffy, but he chose Pekeroné. And that made him happy.

But today, it was time to do something different.

It was another weekend, and Pekeroné was lounging around outside his house under the shade of a palm tree, watching the tchemonis leap around in the distant water when he heard someone call his name from behind him. Immediately tensing up, Peké stood up, spun around, and saw Chavez running up toward him. He was a little confused (and more than a little caught off-guard), since he wasn’t supposed to meet Chavez for their outing on Shamplin until later that day. Apart from an awkward, shaky wave, Pekeroné didn’t know what else to do in response.

“Hey, Peké. Sorry to drop in early,” Chavez apologized once he reached Pekeroné’s spot.

“Th-that’s okay,” the stunned Peké replied. “Is everything alright? I mean, what are you doing here? …Since I was supposed to come up to your place, I mean.” It was then that he realized how heavily and protectively his friend was dressed. He became more nervous.

“Nasty storm just hit the mountain,” the taller man said, confirming his friend’s suspicions. “I didn’t want you to have to risk that.”

Pekeroné felt a pang as the image of Chavez struggling his way through a mighty blizzard flashed into his mind. He comforted himself with the thought that at least he was safe now. “So I assume sledding’s off, then,” he blurted, then smacked himself mentally for seeming like he cared more about sledding than Chavez himself.

Fortunately, his friend didn’t seem to take offence. “Not with visibility that bad,” he said. “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“No, no, that’s fine! I don’t mind at all,” said Peké. “Not that I didn’t want to go! Just as long as you’re safe. As long as we both are, I mean, and we can still be together and hang out and everything—” He clicked his tongue to stop himself mid-ramble. “Why don’t we just chill here for a while?”

Chavez let out a vague suggestion of a laugh. “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

“You can change in my house,” Pekeroné said quickly. Too quickly. “Uh. If you want.”

“Thanks, man,” Chavez said, smiling and heading up to the house.  
  
Pekeroné was alone with his thoughts. This was the first time Chavez had ever come over to his place. He’d said it was due to the hot weather that he avoided Tropuca, yet here he was. Though Peké was grateful to share his home with his crush, he couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He thought back to the time when the Moja invaded. In stark contrast to Pekeroné, Chavez had an air of confidence and chill about him the entire time—except when the group had to traverse through Tropuca. Whenever they had to go through the warm, wet tropics, Chavez seemed to shut down. Go all…steely. He seemed to tread more carefully while in Tropuca, as if one wrong move would cause his downfall. One would think he was walking through a minefield instead of a peaceful beach. When asked about it, he denied that he was acting weird at all. Peké tried to figure out what it was that made his friend so guarded around his beloved ocean home.

A few minutes later, Chavez emerged from the house, stripped down to the innermost layer of the several pairs of waterproof pants he’d packed on against the storm. His upper body was bare (giving Peké the opportunity to admire his toned arms and chest), and his auburn mohawk had been freed from underneath his deep green winter hood. Happily, Peké raced off toward the water and once he was deep enough, threw his head under before coming up a second or two later. “Come on in!” he called to Chavez.

“That’s alright,” he called back. “I’m just gonna chill over here, if that’s okay.”

Though a bit disheartened that he’d be swimming alone, Pekeroné obliged. “Just be careful you don’t burn,” he warned.

Chavez made a thumbs-up back at him and lay down on the sand, and Peké went back into the water. His friend watched him, glad to see the younger man so carefree and unworried for once. He leapt and splashed around as fast as a tchemoni and as gracefully as a kakaloné. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Chavez let a smile cross his lips, knowing that Pekeroné was as happy in the water as he was on the slopes. For a moment, he forgot his uneasiness about this place until the red-clad young man came rushing back onto the shore to dry off. In his hand he held a shining tingalo shell, which he showed to Chavez with all the glee of a child showing his parents a drawing he’d just made.

“Nice find, Peké,” he said. “I’d forgotten how pretty the shells here were.”

“Right? Sometimes I decorate my room with them.” He tossed his head towards the water. “Wanna come swim with me?”

He couldn’t avoid it forever, but maybe Pekeroné would be satisfied if he just went in for a little while. He stood up and waded in after his friend, but refused to go any deeper than his knees. To his dismay, Pekeroné noticed. His eyebrow cocked at the man standing knee-deep in the water like a statue.

“What’s the matter, Chavez?”

“Nothing,” was the response. “I’m good.”

“Do you not want to swim?”

“It’s not that.” Chavez shook his head. “Seriously, I’m fine. Just leave it.” There was a hint of…anger? No, it was closer to urgency in his voice. Suddenly it dawned on Pekeroné.

“You…you can’t swim.”

Chavez just frowned, looking at his feet. His silence spoke volumes. This was the first time since they’d met that Peké had seen him in a place of such…humility. And it hurt him inside, to see Chavez looking so upset. He hurried over to him through the water. “Oh gosh, Chavez, I…I had no idea…”

“None of you did. Not even Tupley.”

Peké was dumbfounded. Chavez, the ultimate athlete, the daredevil of Shamplin, couldn’t even tread water? “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He searched for an excuse and came up nothing. “I…I don’t know. I guess I was just afraid of what you’d think.” Ashamed, he averted his eyes and folded his arms. “Go ahead, you can laugh.”

“Chavez, I would never laugh at you,” Pekeroné insisted. Then an idea came to him. “I-I could teach you!”

The redhead waved him off. “It’s okay, I’ll just pick it up as I go along.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Peké interrupted. “Trust me,” he said, a little more gently, but still sternly, “it’s much safer if someone shows you how.”

Chavez took in a deep breath and looked at the young man who stood in front of him, arms stretched out and ready for him to hold onto. A reassuring smile was on his face, just like the ones Chavez always gave Peké before taking on an icy hill. He began to realize how brave Peké truly was, in his own way. In spite of his fear of heights and extreme speed, he was always willing to join Chavez on the slopes in Shamplin every single time he asked Pekeroné if he wanted to go. And yet here was Chavez, too scared of the water to go in and too proud to admit it. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like the real coward here. But Peké wasn’t judging, wasn’t laughing, didn’t think any less of his friend. He just wanted to show him how to swim. To spend time with him. He exhaled slowly and took Pekeroné’s hands.

“Alright,” he said. “If anyone’s the expert here, it’s you. At least I’ll be learning from the best.”

Pekeroné’s face was as bright as the sun as he helped him get used to the cool, deep water. “Great! Let’s start with paddling.”

Chavez was a pretty fast learner, and was always willing to listen to Pekeroné’s directions. Peké tried to get through all the basics with plenty of practice for each. He refused to let his friend out of his arms without making sure he was holding onto one of his old paddleboards. Oddly enough, this was the first time in a while that Peké felt relaxed and in control. This was his element, his home. And at last, he got to share it with his dear friend, his crush, the guy who meant the most to him. There was absolutely nothing to be worked up or anxious over…at least until Chavez snuck up behind him and doused his bare back with a surprise splash. Peké yelped and stiffened up, but hearing the redhead’s laughter was enough for him to spin around and provide a heck of a counterattack.

They played like that for a while, laughing themselves hoarse and making waves at each other until their hair was sopping wet and their skin glistened. Out of breath, Peké collapsed, still giggling, into Chavez’s embrace without a second thought.  
Grinning, Chavez held him in his arms and scratched his head. It had turned out to be a good day after all. Looking out towards the horizon at the distant sea still unnerved him a little, but he knew deep down that if Pekeroné was beside him to show him the way, he’d go to the bottom of the ocean and back. Dear, courageous Peké, who braved the snowy mountains despite being completely out of his element and who was patient and determined enough to show Chavez how to swim. As he thought this, something in his heart kindled for his friend, a spark of something that wanted to know him as more than a friend, wanted him closer, wanted their link to be more special. But he kept his cool, knowing he wouldn’t have to keep that feeling inside for too long.

“So, you wanna do this again next week?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” came Pekeroné’s reply. “If you’re up for another lesson, that is.”

“I sure am. Practice makes perfect, right?”

Peké smiled up at Chavez. “That’s right! You stick with me and we’ll get you your sea legs in no time!”


	3. Lucky (Budzi/Pekeroné)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic, Pekeroné and Budzi have been dating for a while.

It had started with an ordinary sparring match in Dolangomeri, one of those sparring matches that Budzi would somehow railroad his boyfriend Pekeroné into almost every time they were together. “You gotta learn to defend yourself, Peké,” Budzi would say while pulling him into a headlock. “What if we get invaded again and I ain’t around?”

Peké never knew how to say no to that, so once again, here he was, standing his ground in defiance of the spooky surroundings and trying very hard not to get suplexed by Budzi. He had finally got the hang of dodging his burly partner’s punches without screaming in fear when all of a sudden, they heard a familiar, mechanical noise, growing louder and louder by the half-second. As it came into view, they realized what it was—a BuiBui bomber.

Before Peké could even think of anything else, he felt Budzi jump on him and tackle him to the ground. Then he heard the explosion, felt the ground shake. Small, localized, not fatal, but it still could have seriously injured them both if Budzi had been an instant slower in getting him out of the way. As the sound of the bomber drifted further and further away, Budzi got up from the ground and started chasing the offenders, yelling his head off all the way. 

Pekeroné’s head swam, his ears ringing from the explosion. First, he realized he could have been hurt if it weren’t for Budzi. Then he realized that he had gone after the BuiBui and that he was in danger. “Budzi, wait!” Peké croaked out as he struggled to get to his feet and began scrambling off after them.

“Just wait until I catch up, you monsters!” Budzi shouted. He was gaining on them, in spite of the bombs they kept throwing at him. Not a single one had hit. “Just you friggin’ wait! I’ll knock your teeth right outta your heads!” As the bomber flew over a pit, he leapt over it and grabbed the tail of the aircraft with one hand just before he landed back on the ground. The bomber’s engine gave a whine, trying to cope with the sudden added weight. The whole plane began to wobble and drop, the pilots panicking. Gritting his teeth, Budzi pulled on its tail as hard as he could.

“You’re not gonna get away this time!” he growled. His heels dug into the ground. The BuiBui nearest the tail turned to face him, and last thing he saw before the world went black was a small bomb being thrown at him.

Panting so hard his lungs burned, Peké was very nearly on Budzi’s tail when out of nowhere, there was a loud _BANG_ and Budzi tumbled backwards into the dirt. The bomber’s engine briefly sputtered, then took off into the sky, out of reach. His panic reaching its absolute zenith, Peké screamed and fell to his knees. He grabbed Budzi’s shoulders, calling his name. But it was no use. The man was clearly incapacitated as well as badly hurt. Unsure of what else to do, Peké began running around and screaming for help, though he never let his unconscious friend out of his line of sight. Seconds later, a passing MuiMui helicopter appeared, and Pekeroné rushed over to flag it down.

. . .  
  


The world was still dark and blurry and shapes were incomprehensible as Budzi drifted in and out of consciousness. The one thing he was immediately aware of was the pain that consumed his entire body. The noise of surrounding voices were like needles in his ears. One of them, he could tell, was a MuiMui speaker. His agony-riddled mind struggled to translate while he lay, unmoving, drawing shallow breaths. It sounded like “He’s really very lucky. Remember…lots of rest and change his bandages regularly, ok?”

A familiarly nervous voice stammered out a reply. “Y-yes, of course. And thank you again, a, a million times! I don’t know what we would have done without you!”

_Peké. Oh no. Peké’s here. He can see me_, Budzi thought before he blacked out again.  
  


. . .  
  


When he came to his senses, the pain was still there, still as intense as it had been earlier. Once the world came into focus, he saw that he was in his own house, and that Pekeroné was leaning over him.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake,” he said, the dread in his face starting to subside. “At one point I thought you weren’t gonna ever wake up again!” He quickly shook his head. “I mean, not that I was _that_ worried. You’re not hurt _that_ terribly, after all. I don’t mean to scare you or anything like that, and anyway the MuiMui Doctor said that _eventually_ you’d be okay…”

Budzi groaned, trying to at least sit up from his bed. “Peké, what’s going o—” He was cut off by a stabbing pain in his stomach.

“No! Lie down!” Peké ordered, and pushed on Budzi’s shoulders. “S-sorry for pushing. It’s just that the doctor said you’d better wait for the medicine to kick in before you try walking around or even sitting up. Anyway, you got a bad blow in the stomach with that mini-bomb, so you’ll have to get a lot of rest and not try any strenuous movement for a week or so.”

Budzi frowned and cursed under his breath. No strenuous movement meant no working out, no sparring, and no dancing. He glowered at the bandages on his stomach.

“Hey, Budzi…” Peké piped up.

“Yeah?” the injured man grunted.

His lover’s voice became so quiet and plaintive it was practically a whisper. “Please…don’t ever do that again. Like, what if it had been…you know…worse?”

Budzi looked at Pekeroné. His eyes were dark with sadness, his head hung low. He wasn’t simply being his usual jittery self, he was _scared_. Scared for his Budzi’s life. As far as he was concerned, he nearly lost the love of his life._ I can’t believe I acted like such a moron_, Budzi thought. _What the heck was I thinking, going after an armed bomber? Getting Peké all worked up on my account? I must have scared the poor guy to death._ He sighed through his teeth. “Peké, I’m…I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I made a fool out of myself today, and now I’m making you suffer for it with me.”

Pekeroné’s heart twisted with pain at his concern. “Budzi, please don’t talk like that! Don’t you realize that could have been me?” He put his slim, bony hand over the dark-haired man’s large, muscular one. “You saved me! Remember that first bomb?” Peké looked into Budzi’s eyes with an intensity and resolve that was rare enough to catch him off-guard. “I’m gonna stay here and help you for as long as it takes to get you well again. And don’t think you can try and talk me out of it.”

Budzi smiled a tiny bit and put his other hand over Pekeroné’s. “You’re the best, Peké. I’m sorry you gotta see me like this,” he muttered. “You make yourself at home, alright?”

The brown-haired man nodded. “But first, do you need anything?”

His partner thought for a minute before his expression grew lighter and said, “Actually, there is.”

“What’s that?” asked Peké.

Budzi responded by pulling him by the arms into a tight hug and giving him a quick kiss on the neck.

Pekeroné’s heart leapt into his throat and swelled with joy. No matter how many times Budzi surprised him like this, it would never lose its spark. And that was perfect for him. “H-hey, are you…alright?” Peké quavered.

“Yeah,” Budzi whispered. “I’m fine. I’m just…so lucky to have you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, reviews and critiques are always appreciated! Feel free to request pairings, as well.


End file.
